


Spin

by Crysania



Series: Fridays with Flydam [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, poe can be a dick sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 19:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: Things go a little awry at a party when Poe suggests playing a little game called "Spin the bottle." Written for Fridays with Flydam on the Reylo Writer's Den.





	Spin

It’s not that she’d been drinking.

Actually, she hadn’t. Rey wasn’t much into the drinking scene. The others around her might drink, but she usually claimed her Sprite was some sort of mixed drink, and they accepted it. Funny that, really, how drinking _mattered_ to some people so much that she felt she had to lie to them.

So she hadn’t been drinking.

Poe was drinking. Because Poe usually was. And it was _he_ who suggested the game.

“Spin the bottle!” he shouts as the group is trying to figure out what to do to occupy their time that evening.

“That’s childish,” Ben says, and Rey can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Ah yes, Mr. Grad Student of the advanced age, why don’t you tell us all about childishness?” she says, holding her glass up to point at Ben. He’s not the oldest of their bunch. That actually goes to Poe. Yes, the guy who suggested the childish game. He’s 28, in his final year of getting his doctorate. But he’s never quite outgrown the beer pong and frat parties of his younger days.

She supposes he’ll have to eventually.

Ben makes a huffing noise in the back of his throat and takes a sip of his wine. Wine, of course, because he’s as pretentious as fuck. Ben Solo does not drink _beer_. Well, he drinks beer. But only the fancy craft stuff and only if it’s on tap. Otherwise he brings very expensive wine to these gatherings and refuses to let anyone else touch the stuff.

Which is, quite frankly, fine by Rey. She can keep pretending her soda is a mixed drink and her grape juice is really red wine. She doesn’t know if she’s fooling anyone. But what does it matter anyway? They go along with her little lie.

“Spin the bottle is _stupid_.” And now Ben sounds annoyed. He’s so _easy_ to annoy. Rey scoots over next to him, leans in to sniff his wine. “You’re not drinking my stuff,” he mutters.

“It’s too good for me, right?” She takes a sip of her Sprite and grins at him.

Ben always looks adorably flushed whenever she gets too close to him, the red on his cheeks extending up to the tips of the overly large ears he tries so hard to hide.

He shrugs and looks away from her.

“So you’ve played it before then?” she says with a grin.

“Never.”

“Then how do you know it’s stupid?”

“It just _is_.”

Rey laughs at the angry explosion. She likes the fire in his eyes when she pushes his buttons. There’s something about it that leaves her teetering on the edge of _something_. And so she leans in a little closer to him.

“I dare you to play the game,” Rey says with a smirk.

“Wrong game,” Ben says. It’s his turn to smirk and so Rey just rolls her eyes.

“Come on guys, let’s play.” Poe’s voice is a little wheedling.

“No,” Ben says.

“You’re no fun,” Poe mutters. “Come on, everyone in a circle.” He picks up something off the table and lights it up. “We can play with this!”

“That’s not a bottle,” Finn says and there’s laughter in his voice.

No, in fact it’s _not_. It’s Ben’s precious homemade lightsaber, the one that he wears on his belt for every convention, for every single opening of a Star Wars movie. He _cherishes_ that thing, sometimes she thinks more than any of the people in his life. It has a place of honor on one of the side tables, in its own special holder.

“Spin the lightsaber!” Poe shouts, and everyone erupts into laughter.

Everyone except Ben. And Rey. Rey knows how much he cherishes that thing. _Fuck_.

Ben leaps up off the ground, spilling his wine on the rug at his side before he lunges at Poe. Poe dances out of his way, fairly light on his feet despite the amount of alcohol that must be in his system. “Want it back?” Poe asks. “Then come play the game.”

Ben lunges at him, and Poe dances back, laughing.

“Poe,” he growls. “This isn’t funny. That cost a lot to make.”

“It’s made from _real_ lightsaber parts,” Poe says, and laughs. “You know it’s fake, right?”

Ben lunges again. “It’s _mine_, Poe. This isn’t funny.”

“Come on, Ben. Play the game. What’s the worst that’s going to happen? You’ll have to kiss me? Everyone tells me I’m really good at it.” And he laughs.

“I’d rather kiss a Wookiee,” Ben snarls at him.

Poe laughs. “Right.” And then he goes in for the kill. Poe is normally a pretty decent guy, but sometimes when he’s been drinking, he shows a mean streak a mile wide. Especially with Ben. Rey has suspected for quite some time that Poe was a not quite so reformed high school bully. The years haven’t made much of a difference, really. “The worst that will happen is that _Rey_ will find out you’ve never made a move on her because you’ve never kissed a girl before and you’re _embarrassed_ over that.” And he laughs.

Ben doesn’t laugh.

The color on his cheeks and the tips of his ears deepens.

A muscle twitches in his cheek.

His eyes narrow.

And then he grabs the lightsaber out of Poe’s hands, using his greater reach and his anger to cow the other man.

He’s gone before anyone can even say anything.

“Fuck,” Rey mutters.

“What? Surely you knew?” Poe shrugs

“Knew _what_, Poe?” Rey’s voice is dangerously low.

A door slams.

She can hear something that sounds a bit like Ben punching the wall. He’s probably left a hole.

“That he has a crush on you?”

“Fuck,” Rey says again. “Poe, you’re a real bastard sometimes, you know?” And then she storms off too. She needs to talk to Ben. It’s not like the signs weren’t there. She should have seen them, the way he always wants to sit near her, the way he seems overly protective of her when Poe starts shooting his mouth off. Fuck, fuck fuck.

It’s not like she hasn’t thought about Ben that way. Why _wouldn’t_ she? He’s tall, built like a fucking Greek God, and has hair that she has, admittedly, gotten her hands into far more times than she probably should have, considering they’re “just friends.”

Well, fuck.

Now what?

She knocks on Ben’s door.

Not like it should surprise her, but there’s no response.

“Ben?” she ventures. No response. “It’s me, Rey.” _Of course it is, dumbass. Fuck_. She hears the sound of something hitting the wall near the door. She supposes it’s _some_ response. With a shrug, she puts her hand on the doorknob and turns it.

He hasn’t locked the door.

“Ben? I’m coming in. Please don’t throw anything at me, ok?” There’s no response, but there’s also nothing hitting the wall. She guesses she’ll take that as a sign, so she pushes the door open just a crack. It’s dark in the room, but she can see Ben sitting on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. The lightsaber is still held tightly in one hand.

She takes a step into the room. “Ben, are you okay?”

“Maybe you should be out there laughing it up with your buddy.”

She shrugs. “He’s not my buddy. And besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

His head shoots up at that and Rey reaches behind her to shut the door. She steps carefully across the room, as if she’s going to scare him off if she moves too quickly. When she’s standing in front of him, he finally looks up at her. “Rey?”

She can’t quite make out his expression in the darkness of his room and part of her wants to turn on a light. But at the same time, this feels right, the dim light from the moon shining in through the one window. “Was he telling the truth?”

Ben clears his throat. “Uh…”

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear Ben. Tell me the truth.”

“Maybe,” he finally says.

“Maybe? Or maybe not?” That makes her feel sad and she realizes just how much she _wants_ him to want her, how badly she wants him to have the crush on her that Poe says he does.

“He’s right,” he finally says, the words no more than a broken whisper.

Rey feels her heart soar. He won’t look up at her, won’t meet her eyes, so she reaches out and puts her hand on the lightsaber. He lets it go easily, and so she spins it around her hand and points it at him. “Huh…look at that,” she murmurs. “Seems it landed on _you_.”

Now he does look up at her, lips parted, eyes wide. His eyebrows shoot up a bit as she bites her lip and steps a bit closer. His legs spread apart almost by instinct and she steps between them.

He whispers her name.

“You have to kiss me now, Ben Solo. Those are the rules.” Her voice is matter-of-fact, but wobbles a little on the last syllable. She’s not one for flirting, but this is _Ben_, and she’s not realized until just now quite how much she wants to kiss those plush lips of his.

She watches as he swallows hard. “I guess if those are the rules. Who am I to break them?”

“Exactly,” she murmurs leaning down toward him. They stare at each other for a moment and she wonders if his thoughts mirror her own. This is _Ben_. He’s her best friend. And now they’re about to cross an unexpected line.

And so she just does it. She leans down and brushes her lips against his. And it’s so fucking perfect that she knows already that she wants to do this for the rest of her damned life. Her hands tangle his hair for just a moment before she pulls back.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

“Yeah…”

“So um…look, Poe and his crew are drunk as a bunch of ridiculous skunks. What do you say to getting out of here, maybe getting something to eat.”

“Are you asking me out, Ben Solo?” She smirks and reaches up to tousle his hair.

“Yeah.” He sounds almost smug. “Yeah I guess I am.”

“Good. Then I accept.” He stands then and she reaches out to grab his hand. He’s grinning when she says, “Let’s get out of here.” And they do, racing past Poe and the rest of the crew. A few throw questions their way and Poe lets out a _wait, I was right?_ But it doesn’t matter. There’s no embarrassment now, not for them.

She has a date with Ben Solo.

And it’s about the best damned ending to the night she never could have imagined.


End file.
